call me hopeless, but not romantic
by solicitors
Summary: chapter 3: are you scared? — lucas/maya [a series of unconnected one-shots]
1. find someone you love

**summer is like. three days away im so close to victory! i just finished my first AP exam ever and i think i did pretty well so i'm happy about that! and i've been thinking about this for awhile but my page is getting messy because of all of the one-shots i write. this is a guaranteed story that will go on because i never run out of oneshots. i always write them but never post them because im mad at myself for not finishing my multi chapters. so! that means good news! im done with volleyball for a month until summer rolls around with camps et cetera et cetera but i wont be nearly as busy! also i have BUNCHES of oneshots in the works that im sure that you guys will enjoy! also, it's much easier for me to write when i get requests/templates or whatever so if you can, request a one-shot that you would like for me to write and i'll try to get to that business as fast i can. just know that in the school year, it's harder for me to budget my social life, social media life (my internet friends), school, volleyball, school volleyball, club volleyball, et cetera into one time table but now it's easier since i dont have to worry about SLEEP or STUDYING or failing my classes! yay :D sorry for this super long A/N but yay! enjoy this chapter :)**

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 _title_ : find someone you love  
 _pairs_ : lucas/maya  
 _characters_ : farkle, riley, zay, lucas, maya  
 _summary_ : looking at a photo of a loved one reduces pain by 44%  
 _word count_ : 1215

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Farkle, he usually wasn't one for statistics and non mathematical stuff he found on the internet, because he wasn't sure it was entirely true unless it came from a professor with outstanding caliber or if he tests it for himself. Sure, he means well, but after Maya convinced him the year prior that socks were made out of horse hair because of something she read on the internet, he's not quite sure he can trust anyone, anymore.

But seeing his best friend—the best one he had ever had, too—writhing on the ground like a broken puppy, he had to call for drastic measures before the paramedics got to him. Sure, the paramedics would likely stock him up on morphine to pass the time so he wasn't in complete agonizing pain, but that wouldn't be for awhile. The paramedics had to actually come to his aid, first, and Farkle had to tap his foot impatiently waiting for them.

He was stalking this girl's twitter account, the other day, probably Riley's. He managed to stumble upon an account that was apparently Facts Only. Looking through the page, he had come to realize that more than half of the facts were probably fake, and the other half were probably only half true. People on the internet were really, truly, gullible sometimes.

"Farkle!" Riley screamed as Farkle's attention snapped towards his brunette beauty of a friend. She was leaned over Lucas, inspecting his injuries carefully, completely ignoring the big bulge on his right leg. _Right_ where the bone was sticking out. "Is there anything you can do?" she begged for an answer.

Lucas was good at football, you know, like _really_ good. Star quarterback only his Sophomore year, even his pa would be proud. Which, of course, always granted the possibility of an injury. Nothing more before, luckily, other than a few sprained wrists and a lot of concussions.

But—this—this was _disgusting_. The bone was poking out of his skin in ways a bone shouldn't poke out. Farkle was struggling to look at the face of his best friend, surely he was in immense pain.

People bustled about and Farkle made his way to the front of them whom were huddled around the star athlete. The coach was more concerned with losing his best player rather than his healthcare, and Farkle frowned.

When was this school going to get people that actually cared for their students? he wondered.

Zay was to his right, matting down his sweaty hair. Riley was singing the theme song to one of her favorite TV shows in attempt to calm him down.

Farkle peered down at his friend and knew no other method to use other than wait for the paramedics to come and morphine the kid, and that would take too much time. "Okay," he said, rubbing his hands together. "I think I have an idea to reduce the pain. Where's Maya?"

Riley rubbed her temples slightly, thinking of the location of her best friend. "I think she ran off to get some water for Lucas, but what does the location of Maya have to do with Lucas being in immense, horrible, excruciating, awful—"

"I'm here too, you know," the boy with the grossly broken leg grunted.

"—pain?" she finished with a tight lipped smile, looking sadly at him. "Are you okay?" she asked him.

"Do I _look_ okay?" he asked her right back, and then groaning in pain as someone shifted his severely broken calf. Agh, Riley couldn't stand this. First the blood, then Lucas being in pain. Farkle needed to come up with something quick!

Farkle breathed out heavily, and ran his fingers through his hair. "Does anybody have a picture of her?" he asked. "I need a picture of her," he insisted, pawing at any of his friend's phones. Riley shot him a look of confusion, but threw him her phone anyway, scrolling through her camera roll until she came upon a flattering picture of her best friend.

"Will this do?" she asked curiously.

Farkle nodded, giving the phone with the picture of the blonde beauty to the grunting football player on the grass. Where the _hell_ were the paramedics? "I'm not sure this is going to work, I read it on the internet on twitter. Which, really, isn't the most reliable—"

"Farkle, please," Riley pouted, begging for Farkle to somewhat relieve his pain.

"Sorry, right," he said solemnly, looking at Lucas. "Do you feel less pain?"

"By looking at a picture of Maya?" he seethed. "What is that supposed to mean? Do blonde's make you feel less pain? Get that referee over here, then, why do I need to look at a picture of Maya?"

Farkle cleared his throat awkwardly, threading his hands together. He knew a picture of Riley wouldn't work, since she was already right there. Plus, he had known things about Lucas and his feelings towards the blonde one (even if the poor bloke didn't know himself), and Maya _would_ be the right candidate for this to work. "The—the tweet said that looking at a picture of a loved one reduces pain by 44%! I don't know if that's true, but it didn't work with Riley since she was—she was already here. Maya isn't around, so I figured that looking at a picture of her would relieve some pain, according to this tweet."

"What?!" Lucas screamed. "I don't—I don't love Maya! I mean I do, but I'm not in love with her," Farkle gave him an expectant look, as if he wasn't fooling anyone.

He had to roll his eyes. "Look at the photo, you dimwitted mongrel. Let's hope this works, or you'll be in this kind of pain for at least the next five minutes."

Suddenly, a loud voice erupted from outside the crowd and the crowd of people parted like the Red Sea, letting a small blonde through with a clear water bottle. "Hiya, Cowboy," she said, looking curiously at the picture of her the football player had in his hand. "What's this?" she asked him, picking the phone out of his hand.

"Nothing," he quickly said, taking the phone from her and handing it back to Riley. It was visible how much Lucas softened when he saw Maya in the flesh, his grimace of pain clearly giving up a little bit. "Hi," he breathed out, completely ignoring his friends around them—or rather, forgetting about them.

She smiled widely, handing him the water bottle. "You look a bit out of shape," she stated bluntly with a soft smile.

"You could tell?" he joked, sipping down the cool water. "At least when they stitch me up, the scars will look cool. I could say I'm a war hero or something."

"That's what gets all the girls," she smiled widely, moving his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

Finally, when the paramedics came, they said only one person could ride in the ambulance with Lucas. Farkle insisted Maya first, before anyone could protest. Lucas shot the boy an annoyed look, but Maya was merely confused; however, Farkle knew it was the best way to get Lucas through a bumpy ambulance ride with a broken leg.

In fact, the Only Facts account seemed to have just _one_ right fact.

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 **sorry for the super long authors note! review, fave, follow, and suggest me writing prompts!**


	2. weakness

**hey girls! i know we've all been a little bummed over ski lodge, which is okay! im a total grouch about it too, trust. anyway, i need you to KNOW that everything will be okay in the end at that lucaya is endgame. yall gotta put a little trust, even when you want to burn the studio down. have some therapy, drink some tea, take a nap, everything will be okay girls!**

 _title:_ weakness  
 _pairs_ : lucas/maya  
 _characters_ : lucas, maya  
 _summary_ : lucas friar had only one weakness  
 _word count_ : 1,226

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Lucas Friar, really, truly, had no weakness. He was strong as a horse, some would say, and he went to therapy, too, to help control his anger problems. I mean, sure, he'd get defensive over his friends if you dared to utter a word in their direction, but that was all it would have ever been, because no one dared to make it farther than a few slew of rude words in their target of range, because they knew what was on the other end.

And, as strong and as stoic as Lucas Friar could be, he really, actually, had only one weakness, when it came down to it: Maya Hart.

When she walked through those big, glass doors of Abigail Adams High, you could see Lucas visibly soften. You would see the way his eyes met her soft skin and how his smile nearly consumed his whole face, and you would see the way his body softened, only slightly, but you could see. And how, when she came over, his hand would touch the small of her back and he'd greet her, with this ever-so charming smile that he only reserved for her. And, she would have to crane her just to look up at him, because, god, was he tall.

And you'd see the way his hands would flit around impatiently, like he was dying to touch her, but he couldn't; not there, anyway. His hands, whenever they were together, would always be on her skin, like he couldn't get enough of her. You'd see the way he looks at her, and it's almost cliché, if you saw them together—and it's almost a kind of sick, in a sweet kind of way, how much he's in love with her.

Because, it's not when you see them, it's when they're alone and together, in her shabby room on the sixteenth floor and the third hall down in her apartment building on the corner of Houston Street and Greenwich. It's when she's softly humming the tune of that song she heard on the radio last week while she was doing her geometry homework and he's looking at her like she's quite possibly the best thing to exist.

It's when she burns her toast, and she doesn't even know how (put the bread in the toaster, she tells herself, wait like a minute or two and then it pops out) because, for fucksakes, it's toast and he's smiling so big and so wide and he looks at her, and he doesn't get it, not really; he's so in love with her it's sick.

There's this thing, she has, he tells Zay one time. Because he doesn't get it, not really, how in love with one person he can be. And he tells him that she must have this charm or something, and it has _got_ to be the way her yellow hair shines in the sunlight or the way her smile brights up a dark room and makes his heart do a thousand tumbles in his chest. But, he doesn't know what it is but all he knows is that he's in love with her and it's not so bad.

His voice cracks, you know, whenever he's around her. And one moment, you'd see Lucas Friar for the image he put on—a kid who likes to protect his friends and one who's loyal, and sweet, and smart and one you'd never want to cross. And the next, when he sees her—a kid who's grossly in love with a girl nearly a foot shorter than him and your heart would leap in your chest, because oh god, you want that. You want what they have and you want someone to look at you the way he does because it wrenches your heart, but only a little.

When his hot breath graces over her small and pale skin and she has to blink twice, because she thinks she's seeing stars and when his hand holds hers, and it's almost kind of funny because he's so fucking _big_ compared to her. But that's okay, because it fits just right, he thinks, because he's warm and sometimes when she's not, she cuddles up to his chest.

He's completely whipped, and you know it when she's locked inside of a grocery store while there's an armed robbery going on and he's outside, with Riley and Friends. And she only went in there for a minute, he promises, because she really wanted some of her favorite ice cream in the world and he said that he would've gone in but she said it would only be a minute or two and it had been twelve and he knows that something is wrong the moment he hears the sirens.

And he's a complete mess because he remembers hearing that a girl had just died due to fatal injuries and he's thinking, god what if it's Maya and he doesn'tdoesn'tdoesn't know what to do because she's in there and he's out here. And, when they're finally let out, Maya stumbles out of the store in a great confusion because she was in the bathroom the whole fucking time.

"God, Maya," he says, scolding her like a little child. He grabs her face with his hand and he flips it over twice, to double check that she had no injuries. And then, he picks at her arms and legs and he circles her twice and then checks behind her ears too, and he was just about to take her shoes off before she slapped his hand away.

"For fucksakes, Huckleberry. I told you I'm fine, I was completely unaware of the whole situation because I was constipated."

"TMI," Riley says off to the right.

Lucas frowns at her and softly tugs at her chin with his knuckle, looking at her face again. "Okay, but you could've died."

"Okay, but I didn't."

And you'd see the way he would get protective over her and the way, one time, a guy said something wildly inappropriate about the girl in question in the locker room after baseball practice and you _knew_ he said something wrong by the faces of the rest of the teammates, because they knew who Lucas was. And you'd see way Lucas would growl in anger and then you'd see the way the guys would all fall behind the lockers and avoid Lucas' line of sight.

You'd see the way he smiled at her, and when they'd fight. And you'd see the way he picked her up, and oh, you'd see the way he kissed her.

Because he'd throw her body against the lockers and she'd giggle, she would, because she knows that he's so in love with her and he really is, oh god, he is. And the way his hands would graze down her exposed hips because that day she decided to wear a tube top and she'd bite her lip. He'd pull her hair back, only slightly and tuck it behind her ear and he'd kiss her cheek and her neck, and then. Yes, he'd kiss her lips and it'd be so soft and so sweet and she melts, yes she melts into his embrace because he tastes like cherry's and promises and she tastes like vanilla and maybe a bit of sadness, but he loves her.

Oh god, does he love her.

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 **this was weak. i know. aghh i had half of this written but then i deleted it like an idiot so whatever! also the tenses suck. review and fave and leave me things to write and prompts!**


	3. serial dater

**sorry for the late update! also follow my VINE 420 lucaya hehe. also i didnt spell check because im lazy**

 _title:_ serial dater  
 _pairs_ : lucas/maya  
 _characters_ : lucas, maya, riley (mentioned), oc  
 _summary_ : are you scared?  
 _word count_ : 2,399

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At this point, Lucas was entirely certain that he had been daydreaming of clocking this—this _asshole_ in the jaw. He wasn't quite sure where these immense feelings came from, maybe it was from the fact that he couldn't keep his eyes off of her. And, that, that made Lucas angry.

Of course, Maya was easy on the eyes. She was gorgeous, really, and it came no surprise to Lucas when boys hit on her. But, what was his name again?—right, Bryant, as if a name couldn't get anymore typical than that. Bryant, not only, couldn't keep his eyes off of her, but he couldn't keep his hands off, either.

It's not like they were _dating_ , because that's something they definitely, totally weren't—capital W. They were platonic, at least as far as he knew. Which, in theory, made no sense with how _jealous_ he was, because no, he shouldn't even _be_. Jealous, that is.

She always seemed to have a special skill of dragging him into stuff he didn't want to be dragged into. Exhibit A, being the third wheel of an absolutely horrid, and awful, double date. Maya, she didn't really seem to get that he totally _hated_ third wheeling with her and her dates when Riley was out sick. He wasn't fond of watching her coddle and make out with another guy, other than him, of course.

And, honestly, the movie couldn't get a bit more tacky. He was feeling a bit of Farkle, predicting each and every move five minutes before it happened. This was just another one of those scary movies Bryant picked out so that Maya would cuddle into his arm like a scared puppy—and if that was Bryant's intention, he surely didn't know Maya that well.

Maya sat in the middle of the two, with Lucas on her left and Bryant on her right. Lucas felt a gag come inside when Bryant pretended to stretch and reached his arms over to put them over Maya's shoulders. Gross. Luckily, for him at least, Maya saw the tacky and overused move before he did and almost sneezed on him so he would pull his arm away.

The two exchanged a look and he chuckled. Well, he thought, at least that's another boy out of the billions in the world down the hole.

After the movie was done, Maya bid her goodbye's with—who was it again? Yes, Bryant, that name seemed to always slip Lucas' mind for some reason. They walked out of the theater, laughing, that is, about how horrid another one of her dates went. And he'd drive her home as she popped in one of his country CDs and as she made fun of him and even though she was with Bryant the whole night, he spent the latter half with her and her talking about his tacky moves so that's all that mattered, to him at least.

And then came another boy, his name was Brent which was already telling within itself. Apparently she met him at a blind date thing that Riley had forced Maya to go to and they seemed to both like ACDC but with similarities other than that, it seemed to stop short. He was tall, almost taller than Lucas but not just _quite_ , which was good because he remembered Maya muttering something the other day about liking tall guys. He had jet black hair that was, what Riley told him one time, something like a fashion mess. And, god, he wasn't cute.

Lucas could see the way Maya raised her eyebrows in surprise as Brent ambled his way over, his stride that offered such a cocky persona Maya almost gagged at the sight. He introduced himself, yet again, and then looked over to Lucas with something similar to rage. "And who might this be?"

Lucas was about to answer, but Maya beat him to it. " _This_ is my best friend. And, conveniently, my other best friend is sick, yet again. So he'll be joining us, if you don't mind."

They were at the mall, a neutral ground, Lucas remembered Maya telling him one night. They were placed at the food courts long before Brent came. He was a good fifteen minutes late. Ugly, _and_ not punctual. Swoon. Maya bit back the urge to clock Brent in the knee, clearly unsatisfied.

Brent sat down with them, across from Maya since Lucas made _sure_ there was no room next her. Brent's eyes filled with something, when he looked at Maya. Something mixed with lust, but Lucas couldn't quite place it. Either way, it was not a good look. "How are you, Maya?" he asked her, completely ignoring the fact that Lucas existed.

"I'm good," she spit out with a fake smile. "Just sat here for fifteen minutes, waiting for you. But, it's whatever. We should order something, shouldn't we?"

Luckily, for Lucas, Maya neglected to call Brent ever again. And then came the next boy, his name was Fred and he had a deep, dark complexion. Maya liked him a lot, Lucas didn't. They went on five dates before Maya broke it off. And then, there was the next. His name was Jacob. And then the next, and the next.

She oddly filed through his baseball friends, and then through his football friends. There was Cross, Zepher, and Jackson. They listened to the Beatles once before, so Maya stopped talking to them. Plus, they completely lacked in the same interest department.

There was Noah and Elizabeth, they both had green eyes (he remembered Maya told him), but she dropped them the day after meeting them. There was also Charlotte, he remembered. Charlotte had blonde hair and these pretty eyelashes, too, and she took her on a boat ride or something. He didn't beg for details, only knew that it didn't work out.

There was Caden, too, and Olivia. They had brown hair, but Olivia's cut just below her shoulder. Caden smelled like mint green and told her he loved her during their second date. She stopped dating him after that. He remembers a few more, Cameron, Isaac, Isabella, Owen, Harper, and Lincoln. She kept filing through people, like a serial dater.

Lucas would admit, only to himself, that yes, Maya being with other people in a romantic-esque way was certainly off putting. And he hated it, he didn't want to say it, but he hated it. Because, god, he'd see the way her eyes shined whenever she looked at art and maybe he's cliche but he loved her, more than the people she's dated ever could.

And she never stopped at a relationship, never exceeding five dates. She dated multiple people at once, if it came to it. He doesn't know where she found them, or perhaps they found her because she was so alluring and it was nearly impossible not to ask the Maya Hart on a date when she was single, even if only for a moment.

And so he asks her, what it's all about. Because he's not judging her, he isn't, he's just curious because at points it seems like she's filing and filing until she'll find the one person she's looking for, but she never gives them a chance. He asks her when her face is plastered to the inside of her textbook, which she was supposed be reading, but instead, she fell asleep. Her wild blonde hair spewed around the top of her head and Lucas could almost hear her soft little snore.

"Hey," he nudged her with his foot softly. She groaned loudly, flipping her body over, the page ripping from her face. She lied there for a moment, looking up at the ceiling with her hands on her stomach. "Can I ask you a question?"

"If it's about postulates or calculus or _anything_ math related, please don't. I'm spent."

Lucas chuckled under his breath and closed his eyes, speaking with them closed. "I'm not judging you, if you think I am. It's an honest question."

She shot her hand up curiously, moving her body so she was facing him. "Shoot."

"What's with all of the, you know, like—how do I say this without sounding crass? What's with all of the serial dating, I guess?" He opened one eye to look at her and she peered at him curiously, and then her blank face turned into a smile. She titled her head fondly, tucking her knees to her chest.

"I don't know," she sighed, after a minute of silence. He opened his other eye. "I'm, just, trying to find someone to spend my time with other than you, and Riley, I think."

Ouch. That kind of stung. "What's so bad about spending time with me?" and Lucas could see Maya's face twist, recognizing the hurt in his voice. She could read him like an open book.

She shook her head. "That's not—that's not what I meant. Sorry, it came out weird. I... none of them are, like, someone I enjoy being around. And then comes the next one, and I think that I'll like them but we're too different, or something. Or they can't hold my personality, or I find no utter interest. It's interesting, really, that none of them are like..." she stops herself, trailing off with a breath.

"Like what?" he has to ask her, he does. Because he has to know, he does he does and he does.

"It's not important," she says, twisting her body to snatch her math book off the ground.

"When it concerns you," he tells her, "it's important to me."

She tilts her head to the side, forgetting the book next to her leg. "What about you, huh? I see you're completely lacking in the girlfriend department."

He doesn't know what to say. Because she's there, and he's here and there's always someone new in her life. So he tells her the truth, not the whole truth, but the truth. "Besides the fact you drag me along to every single one of your dates, there's this girl I've been keeping my eye on."

He can visibly see her expression fall, and she plasters on a fake smile. "Oh, really? That's great, Lucas. Have I met her?" she forces through her front teeth.

He nods his head. "Yeah, you have," is all he says.

An awkward kind of silence fills the air and Maya has to suck in her breath. They don't know what to say, because they both know what the other one is thinking. So she decides to break it, because she doesn't know what else to say. "What is she like?"

That throws him off guard. But he decides to tell her anyway, because what's he got to lose? So he takes a deep breath, and exhales, closing his eyes for a moment. Their study session got pretty intense. "She's really pretty," he tells her.

"Hmm?" she asks him. "How so?"

He can see behind her facade, though. "Well," he begins to tell her. "She's got this blonde hair, kind of like yours. And it's a bit curly, a bit wavy, and I don't know if it's natural or she curls it. I think it's natural, though."

"Her hair?" she asks him.

A smile splays on his face sloppily. "Yeah, it's really soft, too. She has this conditioner that she owns and she won't tell me what it is because she thinks I'll steal it."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh?" she asked him. "Well, I'm sure her conditioner cost a bunch of money and she doesn't want your hair being soft, too."

"There's more about her, too, you know?"

"You can tell me," she tells him.

"She has these, blue eyes." He starts to ramble. "It's like they touched the ocean and the sky and they're so beautiful, that you can get lost in them for hours. There's not a color on the rainbow that can capture the beauty of her eyes."

Maya decides to get up from her spot on the floor and joins him on her bed, sitting next to him. "She sounds lovely," she tells him and it's true, he thinks. There's a small smile on her lips.

"And when she smiles," he adds on, "it's so big and beautiful that it could light up a thousand cities." She looks at her hands, fighting the blush on her cheeks. She's finally starting to understand. "And she's got these small hands, too, and I've got these big hands and they're so small compared to mine but she holds them anyway."

He doesn't stop looking at her. "She's also short, so she can't reach on the highest cupboard in her dorm so she calls me over because sometimes the chair is too heavy. And even though she's five foot zero, she swears like a sailor. She can also do art, really well. She draws and she paints and can capture anything she wishes because that's who she is. And there are people throwing themselves at her feet, inclusive to any gender."

Her lips are pursed together tightly and he can see that she's thinking, but he doesn't know what. "Do you love her?" she asks him.

"Well, I'd like to think so," he nudges her shoulder softly with his. "She's my best friend."

"She's very lucky," she tells him, and then she looks up to meet his eyes. Her eyes, the color of the ocean, and her lips, the color of a cherry. Her hair mussed up and blonde as ever and he's never loved her more than now, he thinks.

"Are you scared?" he asks her, about their relationship. Because something shifted in her eyes, and in their relationship.

"Not of you," she whispers.

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 **the ending was going to be MUCH different with a longer ending but i liked this better**

 **review and fave!**


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